Ripley is wiggling out of Farrow’s hands, and then the group of men all let out groans.
Oscar plugs his nose. “The kid had an explosion.”
“No shit,” Farrow says, then playfully gasps at Ripley. “You need a changing, little man?” Ripley wears a silly smile and touches Farrow’s cheeks.
Farrow combs a hand through his bleach-white hair, before standing up and hoisting Ripley on his waist. He catches my gaze and motions to the door.
I nod to him, letting him dip out early.
I’m seconds from letting the others go back to the party when my phone rings. Loren Hale. I was just about to call him, but I tell everyone, “Meeting’s not over. Hold on.” I put the phone to my ear. “Akara Kitsuwon speaking.”
“Akara,” Loren says, his voice sounds like razor-knives. “I just found out something about one of your bodyguards that’s disturbed me.”
I freeze, looking up as my men watch Farrow leave through the doors. “Which bodyguard?”
“The one who’s already written on my shit list—and if my son didn’t like him so goddamn much, there wouldn’t be a problem.”
Donnelly. I glare at him on the steps.
He sinks down on the stair like I’ve just put him in time out.
“What’d he do?”
“He tattooed my daughter’s ass. When did this happen and where were they?”
Shit.
I know about the galaxy tattoo, but I don’t have all the details Lo’s asking for. I narrow my gaze even more and bring my phone down, muting the speaker so Lo can’t hear. “Donnelly, when and where did you tattoo Luna’s ass?”
Every head jerks in his direction.
“This summer.” Donnelly slips a cigarette behind his ear. “I did most of it in her bedroom.”
“What?” Thatcher glares.
“Bro,” Oscar groans more, “her bedroom?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Donnelly defends.
Banks slides me a furtive look. Yeah, I know that look—the one that says, who are we to judge? We’ve been dating Sulli. And her dad finding out she’s been with two bodyguards, not just one, could be catastrophic.
But I’d rather take on Ryke Meadows than Loren Hale as the father of the girl I’m dating. Any day of the week.
I unmute Loren and put my phone to my ear. “It happened this summer, and he tattooed Luna at your house. She requested the tattoo.”
Loren is quiet on the line.
SFO are holding their breaths.
I wait.
“My kids are young,” Loren says sharply. “Luna looks younger than her age, and she’s a young, impressionable nineteen.” He’s emphasizing these words very strongly here. “My son is a young, impressionable sixteen. My daughter didn’t have a single tattoo until Donnelly. And now my son’s favorite hoagie place has changed.”
I don’t think Xander ever had a favorite hoagie place.
Loren keeps going, “Tell him to back off. He’s not their best friend. He’s their twenty-eight-year-old bodyguard. And he’s going to be roadkill if he ever sees my daughter unclothed again. I don’t give a shit if it’s just for a tattoo. I’m not an idiot—I know how that spirals into other things.”
“It hasn’t, it won’t,” I assure Lo. “Donnelly is professional.” With a few more reassurances, I hang up, and I tell Donnelly, “You’re on Loren Hale’s permanent shit list. You’re not getting off.”
He nods a few times. “You transferring me?”
“No. Xander wants you on his detail, and Loren doesn’t want you to leave. But you need to tone down the buddy-guard routine. Just do your job. Don’t take him to Wawa anymore.”
“He wants to go, though.”
I sigh. “Just try not to influence him.” It might be hard because Donnelly doesn’t seem to be doing anything. He’s just cool in the eyes of Xander Hale.
I pick up my beer mug. “Before the meeting ends,” I tell them, “I want to say cheers to your Omega lead.” I gesture to Thatcher who starts to smile.
Banks, Quinn, Donnelly, and Oscar pick up their drinks.
“Congrats to Thatcher, for being the second bodyguard to do the impossible and be with American royalty. Can’t wait to be there and see you cry as Jane walks down the aisle.”
Everyone laughs.
“Thanks,” Thatcher smiles more, swigging his drink with the rest of us. But as the liquid slides down the back of my throat, I realize a third bodyguard is going to do the impossible and be with another American princess.
I’m just not sure who it’ll be anymore. Me or Banks. Any way I turn it, it feels like a total tossup.
42
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
October 30th. Hallow Friends Eve. The day I fucking finally free-solo.
Yesterday, the weather cleared for my final practice run, and I